


Tangled Up

by nothinglasts222



Category: Lost
Genre: Fanfiction, M/M, OTP Feels, Season 2, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 13:31:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6612472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothinglasts222/pseuds/nothinglasts222
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Judgin' by how long you been layin' on me I’d say you kinda like this position Doc."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tangled Up

**Author's Note:**

> I've recently become obsessed with the show "Lost" and thought I'd take a swing at a fanfic. This one came to me after watching the scene where Jack and Kate were caught in one of Rousseau's traps, and I found myself wishing it had been Sawyer that had come along.

Jack silently curses himself for letting Sawyer come along. He should have brought Kate. He throws a glance over his shoulder, sees Sawyer in tow, holding on to a rifle like his life depends on it. Come to think of it, Sawyer believes that his life does depend on it, he’s been obsessed with guns since their first day on the island, when Jack thought for sure he’d kill nearly everyone and take all the supplies for himself. Things had changed, and now, even though Jack trusted Sawyer with the gun, he still didn’t allow himself to ever let his guard down completely around the con man. 

“Hey Doc, we there yet?” Sawyer asks in his usual sarcastic tone. “You sure you know where this imaginary boogey-man line is?”

Jack stops and looks back. “Why don’t you just shut up and trust me, okay?”

Sawyer rolls his eyes and Jack turns around and keeps walking. At least with Kate there would have been some pleasant conversation.

After a few minutes Sawyer sprints past him. 

“Sawyer?” But Sawyer doesn’t stop until he reaches something on the ground. He rests his rifle against a tree trunk and walks over to it, examining it curiously.

Then Jack realizes what’s happening. He jogs the last few paces to Sawyer and the object on the ground.

“Sawyer, don’t!” But Sawyer’s already picked up the worn doll, and just as Jack steps into the space next to him they’re enclosed in a net and hoisted up in the air. 

“Goddamn it!” Sawyer seethes. He fights to get the doll’s arm out of the netting and tosses it to their feet. The way the trap is built doesn’t leave much standing room, especially not for two people. Jack lurches forward into Sawyer, their bodies flush up against one another, and he has no way to regain his own balance. 

“Get off me,” Sawyer grunts. He shoves Jack, bouncing him off the net behind him, and they both fall in closer to each other, fighting for foot room around the doll. 

“Alright, just hold still. We’ve got to try to balance it out.” Sawyer stops struggling and relaxes, the net finally slowing its swinging. Jack makes an effort to give them both some space, stepping backward to spread the net out at their feet. 

“If we stay still enough we can keep some personal space.”

“Ain’t no such thing as personal space here,” Sawyer breathes. 

Jack suddenly remembers his gun. He holds onto the net with one hand and carefully twists his body to try to reach his back pocket. 

“Thought we were supposed to keep still boss.”

“I’m getting my gun. I’m going to shoot that rope.” He nods in the direction of the rope holding the net up.

Sawyer turns his head to look. “You sure as hell gotta lotta faith in your shot."

“You gotta better idea?”

Sawyer turns back. “Gun’s not in yer pocket.”

Jack stops. “What?”

“It’s in my pants.”

Jack almost laughs. “What?”

“Don’t get excited, cowboy.”

“What are you doing with my gun?”

“Stole it off of ya, does it matter? Look, you wanna get us out of here you’re gonna have to reach back here and get it.”

“Why don’t you get it?”

“Helluva lot easier for you to reach it than me.”

He’s right. Jack holds Sawyer’s stare for a moment longer, then moves his eyes to his beltline. He slowly leans toward Sawyer, knowing that he can’t keep them apart for long, and soon he’s right up against Sawyer again, but this time his feet are planted more securely against the netting. He turns his head sideways to avoid Sawyer’s, can feel the heat from the man’s sweaty chest as he leans in harder, praying that he finds the gun soon. He lifts up the bottom of Sawyer’s shirt and feels the butt of a pistol. He tugs on it, but it sticks. 

“Just take your sweet time,” Sawyer says.

“It’s stuck on your belt,” Jack responds. He gives it a second tug, harder, then a third, finally pulling it free and conveniently pulling him completely into Sawyer. Sawyer’s shirt had been unbuttoned, and Jack’s finally rubbed against it enough for it to open up completely and he’s met with a hard, slick stomach. Jack’s heart pounds wildly in his chest. They’re left breathing hot air into each other’s mouths, down each other’s necks. Jack lifts his eyes from Sawyer’s chest to meet his piercing green eyes, mere inches away from his own. The man screams masculinity.

“Judgin' by how long you been layin' on me I’d say you kinda like this position Doc.”

Jack suddenly snaps to and scrambles to get off Sawyer. He shoves himself backwards into the net and holds on tight with his free hand. He meets Sawyer’s eye, and Sawyer smirks at him. Jack turns his head away in disgust and focuses on the gun and what he needs to do. He doesn’t dare lean into Sawyer again, doesn’t dare attempt to use him to prop the gun against, that would be ideal but instead he takes a shot in the dark with one shaky hand on the gun and hits the rope dead on. It breaks and sends them crashing down into the dirt. 

Jack lands on top of Sawyer and spends no time getting up. He wrestles himself out of the net and finds the pistol, holsters it on his belt. Sawyer sits up and pulls the net over his head, then looks up at Jack. 

“Help me up?” 

Jack hesitates, then reaches a hand out for Sawyer to grab and pulls him up. Sawyer brushes the dirt off of his jeans then buttons up his shirt. 

“Nice shot,” he throws out. He walks over to his rifle, picks it up and slings it over his shoulder.

“It’s not what you think it was Sawyer.”

“We’re out in the wild, hoss. A man’s got needs,” Sawyer says with a raise of eyebrows.

Jack looks away. “We better get moving. It’s getting dark.” He starts walking in the direction they were headed. Sawyer falls in step behind him.

“Never thought I’d find you on top of me so many times in one day.”

Jack’s step falters for a second, and he can feel Sawyer’s smirk searing into his back. He doesn’t stop though, doesn’t turn around, just keeps walking. On this island he doesn’t believe in hope, but he hopes anyway that by the time they reach their destination his heart rate will have returned to normal and his cheeks will no longer be burning.


End file.
